On February 18, 2021 Dolly Parton asked Tennessee lawmakers to pull a bill that would have placed her bronze likeness at the Capitol. It was not a rejection of love. It was a refusal to stand above a hurting state while so many families were grieving.
The story begins decades earlier in Sevierville. In 1987 residents of Sevier County pooled their own money and commissioned artist Jim Gray to cast a bronze figure of Parton. It was placed outside the courthouse. She was shown holding a guitar and resting on a boulder with bare feet.
Parton attended the unveiling and accepted the gift with warmth. The statue was not a grand political monument. It was a tender tribute from neighbors who watched her grow up in the Great Smoky Mountains and never let her forget where she came from.
Thirty-four years later Tennessee State Representative John Mark Windle introduced legislation to erect a statue of Parton on the state Capitol grounds in Nashville.
The proposal recognized her as one of Tennessee’s defining cultural forces. It also pointed to her philanthropy including funding for vaccine research and the ongoing gift of tens of millions of books to children around the world.
But Parton responded with a public statement that was gracious and firm.
I want to thank the Tennessee legislature for their consideration of a bill to erect a statue of me on the Capitol grounds. I am honored and humbled by their intention but I have asked the leaders of the state legislature to remove the bill from any and all consideration.
Her reason was not false modesty. She said she did not think putting her on a pedestal was appropriate while the world was struggling through grief, uncertainty, and loss.
Given all that is going on in the world I don’t think putting me on a pedestal is appropriate at this time.
She closed with warmth and a clear boundary.
I hope, though, that somewhere down the road several years from now or perhaps after I’m gone if you still feel I deserve it, then I’m certain I will stand proud in our great State Capitol as a grateful Tennessean. In the meantime, I’ll continue to try to do good work to make this great state proud.
The bill was withdrawn.
The contrast reveals how Parton measures honor. A barefoot bronze in Sevierville belonged to the people who knew her first. A statue in Nashville would have placed her in the seat of political power while the public she loved was hurting.
For an artist who funds vaccine research and sends tens of millions of books to children, cold bronze at the Capitol was never the point. She preferred to leave her mark in living hands.